


Old Friends and New Beginnings

by newnumbertwo



Category: Battlestar Galactica, Battlestar Galactica (2003), Deadwood
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 09:26:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1043193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newnumbertwo/pseuds/newnumbertwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura and Bill learn about and share a special holiday with their family...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Friends and New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fragrantwoods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragrantwoods/gifts).
  * Inspired by [New in Town](https://archiveofourown.org/works/390118) by [fragrantwoods](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragrantwoods/pseuds/fragrantwoods). 



Title: Old Friends and New Beginnings  
Rating: M (for language)  
Word Count: ~6850  
Pairings: Adama/Roslin, Kara/Lee, Saul/Ellen, Sharon/Karl, and Al/Alma  
Disclaimer: Don't own them...  
Summary: Laura and Bill learn about and share a special holiday with their family...  
A/N: Set in [](http://fragrantwoods.livejournal.com/profile)[**fragrantwoods**](http://fragrantwoods.livejournal.com/) ' lovely creation Falcon's Rest in honor of her birthday. This follows her [New in Town](http://fragrantwoods.livejournal.com/55932.html), [](http://afrakaday.livejournal.com/profile)[**afrakaday**](http://afrakaday.livejournal.com/) 's [A History to Keep us Warm](http://afrakaday.livejournal.com/21715.html), and is also related to [](http://fragrantwoods.livejournal.com/profile)[**fragrantwoods**](http://fragrantwoods.livejournal.com/)' [The Gift of the Tighs](http://fragrantwoods.livejournal.com/114891.html)  
A/N2: Many thanks to lanalucy for the beta, brainstorm, initial idea, research assistance, and several key lines. She really went above and beyond for this fic. *hugs*

The children had gone home for the day, and Laura was straightening the schoolroom when Mrs. Bullock walked in. “Everything looks to be in proper order, Mrs. Adama.”

Laura nodded. “Almost, yes.”

“I was wondering if you were planning any special Thanksgiving-themed lessons?”

 _Thanksgiving?_. Laura smiled. “That sounds lovely, but I haven’t decided what I’ll be doing yet.” _Bill and I will be doing some research tonight, it seems._

Mrs. Bullock offered a smile. “I’m sure whatever you do, it’ll be fine.”

They exchanged leave-takings. Laura finished tidying up and closed the door behind her, walking out into the streets of Deadwood.

Mr. Swearengen stood on the balcony of the Gem. He nodded in her direction, and she gave a quick smile before he turned his attention to E.B. Farnum, just exiting the Grand Central Hotel and scurrying to the Gem in that rat-like way of his. He gave Laura a shy wave and smile, as he often did ever since she had slammed the door in his face. She gave a slight nod of acknowledgement and continued on. The going-ons at the Gem were no longer hers or Bill’s concern. She had other items that needed to be addressed at home. _After a quick stop at the library_.

She entered the Deadwood Public Library. The librarian, Mr. Bacon, smiled as Laura entered. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Adama. Is there anything I can help you with today?”

She smiled at him. He was an import from the east - like Alma. He had the distinction of having met Melvil Dewey and being familiar with his innovative system. Al and Bill had marveled about why he was in Deadwood, of all places. Alma and Laura had simply asked why any of them were there. He had taken the post of town librarian the following week, immediately implementing the decimal system. It was time to put that system to the test. “Do you have any books about Thanksgiving? Its history, maybe something I can use in the classroom?”

He wrinkled his brow. “I think we have just the thing.” He went in the direction of the newspaper archives, and Laura followed him. He thumbed through the archives. “President Lincoln’s proclamation is in one of these.”

He continued working through the large stack. Laura, Alma, Martha, and Mr. Bacon had devised a system of updating the archives periodically to keep them manageable. They would keep newspapers for the previous three years as well as any older ones deemed “of historical merit.” Presidential proclamations would have been at the top of that list.

Libraries from around the country had donated books, magazines, and newspapers, especially after Laura’s letter-writing campaign. It probably had helped that she and Bill’s fame as writers had been rising.

“Aha! Here we go.” He handed Laura a paper. “The official birth of Thanksgiving.”

“Thank you. May I take this home?”

He nodded. “For you, of course.”

“Thank you for your time.” Laura smiled her goodbye and exited the library.

As she walked, she glanced at the headline: “President Lincoln Declares Thanksgiving a National Holiday.” It sounded like a good place to begin her research.

///////////////////////////////////////////

She crossed over from Deadwood into Falcon’s Rest, taking some time to stroll along the lake. When she reached the main settlement, Kara was out with Amelia, who had begun walking, much to her mother’s chagrin. Laura smiled at the thought, as she and Bill had told Kara they hoped she had a child just like her. It looked like they’d gotten their wish.

Laura offered a wave. “Keeping the streets safe, Deputy?”

Kara smirked. “You know it.” She held up her daughter’s hand. “I’m training this one. What do you think of the future Sheriff Adama in 1900?”

Laura hmmed. “What does Leland say about that?”

Kara rolled her eyes. “He’ll be happy as long as she is. So will I.”

“So say we all.” Laura gave Kara a hug before bending to kiss her granddaughter. “We’ll see you for Sunday dinner, right?” she asked once she was upright again.

“We’ll be there. Even if I have to drag Leland.”

Laura sighed. Her stepson had been overwhelmed with work lately. It seemed he’d inherited Bill’s and Laura’s strong sense of duty - and maybe a touch of their workaholism. She put her hand on Kara’s shoulder. “I’m counting on you to drag him, then.”

Kara laughed. “That’s what I do best.”

Laura giggled and they exchanged goodbyes.

Laura walked home, excited to see her husband - and to learn of his progress that day. She walked up the front steps and opened the door, stepping inside.

“Hey, honey! I’m back here,” Bill called from their back office.

Then she went into their office, finding her husband hunched over the desk. She went to him, kissing the top of his head. “What adventures and mischief are Starbuck and Apollo up to?”

Bill chuckled. “Starbuck got in a broken rocket and crashed into the moon. Apollo just got in a second rocket to go after her.” He sighed, obviously remembering. “Their parents are furious, but they’re also counting on Apollo to bring them both back home.”

Laura rubbed his shoulders. “I seem to remember Starbuck doing her share of the rescuing too.”

“That’ll be the twist ending.” He stroked Laura’s hand. “Ready for dinner? I tried something different today.”

“Mmm. I’m loving our new arrangement, Mr. Adama.”

“Me too, Mrs. Adama.” He rose from the desk chair.

She followed him into the kitchen, where he reached into their ice box, pulling out their dinner. She lit the fire in the wood stove, and he placed the steaks in the pan. It smelled great already. “Different spices?”

Bill nodded. “Yeah. I thought they’d work.”

“Judging by the smell, it’ll taste wonderful.”

He turned the steaks, and she put the potatoes and vegetables in the pan. When everything was ready, they divided the steaks and sides onto two plates and carried their plates into the dining room.

She took a bite. “Mmm.” The seasonings he’d tried were perfect. “Very good, honey.”

“Yeah, it’s not bad.” He swallowed another bite. “How was school?”

“Good. The children are really coming along. And then Mrs. Bullock asked me about Thanksgiving--”

“Thanksgiving?”

She nodded. “It appears to be a holiday, Bill. I like the sound of it, but we’ll need to learn what it is exactly.”

“There’s so much to learn. All the time.”

“I love that, though. It’s been so long since I’ve had to do so much research. So much learning. And we get to spend the rest of our lives in this rich and interesting place, watching history unfold.”

He grinned at her. In the time since her last recovery, since they’d settled here, she’d approached life with increased vigor and motivation, and her husband was right there with her.

When they finished eating, they cleared the table and tidied the kitchen. He put his hands on her shoulders. “Wanna get to work?”

She hmmed in the affirmative.

“I’ll put the coffee on, then.”

She retrieved her newspaper from the foyer table and went to one of their living room chairs. Bill sat in his chair after lighting the oil lamp between them.

“Thanks, honey. That’s much better.” She smiled in his direction. "Know what you can do to make it even better?"

He chuckled. "I think so."

He kneeled in front of her. Lifting her right leg slightly, he rested her foot against him as he unbuttoned the shoe. Then he slowly pulled it off of her. She sighed in relief and then pleasure, as he massaged her calf, ankle, and arch after removing the shoe. “Gods, Bill. You’re so good to me.”

“That, and I love your feet.”

She raised a brow. “Really?”

He kneaded a particularly sore spot of her arch. “Yeah. So beautiful. I used to look forward to your visits--”

“Even in the beginning?”

“Yeah. I loved how you’d take your shoes off and curl your feet on my couch. You were so...comfortable.”

She beamed at him. “I was, always.”

“I wanted to rub them for you, then, but…”

“But?”

“It was early, and I didn’t want to...press.”

She nodded. And he released her right leg, replacing it with the left one. He repeated the process. When he was finished, he asked, “How’s that?”

“Mmm. Wonderful. I’m not sure I want to read now, but I will.”

He rose from the floor, massaging his knees absently. She made a mental note to rub his knees down with liniment later. He sat back down in his chair, and she raised the newspaper to see it better.

She glanced at the story. The date of the proclamation was October 1863. It had been a relatively new holiday then. At least officially. The writer had given some historical context that President Washington had been the first to proclaim a day of thanksgiving. It seemed Lincoln had taken it a step further. Her eyes landed on Lincoln’s proclamation. The speech was...moving. He was a man who cared deeply for his nation, for healing in a time of crisis. As bad as it must have been to live through their Civil War - her research had told her that much - she would have liked to have been there to meet Lincoln. She felt a certain...kinship with him, and she could have learned so much from the man and his sacrifices.

“You’re really immersed in that.”

She nodded without taking her eyes off the paper. “This...proclamation is...well, it shows such a deep care for healing his Union.” She looked up at Bill to see she had his full attention. “Listen to this: ‘It has seemed to me fit and proper that they should be solemnly, reverently and gratefully acknowledged as with one heart and one voice by the whole American People. I do therefore invite my fellow citizens in every part of the United States, and also those who are at sea and those who are sojourning in foreign lands, to set apart and observe the last Thursday of November next, as a day of Thanksgiving and Praise to our beneficent Father who dwelleth in the Heavens.’”

Bill grinned at her. “That sounds like one of your speeches.”

She snorted.

“Maybe not in the wording, but certainly the sentiment.” He reached across the chairs to take her hand. “I seem to remember a very moving speech when our food was spoiling, and our only hope was to go through that radioactive star cluster.”

She sighed. “I remember admitting I was scared and uncertain. Not much of a motivational speech, I’m sure.”

“It was honest and moving. Real. In spite of the unease and uncertainty of the situation, I remember feeling a sense of...calm after hearing it. If I had been just an ordinary citizen and hadn’t known you, hadn’t known the full details of the situation, I still would have felt like...I was in good hands, you know?”

“I’m glad you weren’t an ordinary citizen, Bill. I needed you...by my side. And so did the fleet. Plus, I was an ordinary citizen for awhile.” She snorted. “It wasn’t so great.”

“And now…”

She grinned. “Now we’ve earned our retirement. And the people still look to us. And when they don’t, Al, Alma, and the Bullocks do. Even if they don’t quite admit it.”

“Which brings us to Thanksgiving. I think that sounds like something we should do here.” He squeezed her hand. “We have so much to be thankful for.”

She grinned. “The gods?”

“No, you.” He chuckled. “But I suppose we can’t give thanks to you, not nationally anyway.”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t just me, Bill. I remember you and our children playing a role in everything. Besides, you show your...appreciation every day.” She looked back down at the paper. “We still don’t know how it’s celebrated.”

“You could always ask your students. You know, lead a little discussion about Thanksgiving. Let the kids teach you before you teach them.”

“That’s an excellent idea!”

“And I’m sure the quilting group will want to get involved.”

She rose from her chair and sat in his lap. “I think I’ll like sharing Thanksgiving with you.” She kissed him, and he held her closer. She rested her head against his chest. “Ready for more adventures of Starbuck and Apollo?”

“Actually, I’d like to explore some adventures of Husker and Airlock.”

That sounded fine too. Their agent was anxious for the next manuscript… But they could work on it tomorrow. Tonight was a good time for giving thanks...to each other.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

Laura stood at the classroom door, waiting for the children, mostly accompanied by their parents, to enter. Alma arrived with Sofia. “Good morning, Mrs. Adama,” Alma said.

“Good morning, Mrs. Swearengen.” She smiled at Alma and then looked down at Sofia. “Good morning, Sofia. Are you ready for today’s lessons?”

Sofia nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

The young lady still didn’t speak much, but she was remarkably bright and unfailingly polite, and she sat in the front row, in the seat closest to Laura’s desk.

Sofia took her seat after kissing her mother goodbye. Alma gave Laura a quick wave and left.

The other children entered the classroom in a haphazard order. It was similar to New Caprica in a way: The children’s attendance was unpredictable, as there were so many factors - illnesses and various crises. The parents regarded Laura - and Mrs. Bullock - as almost a mystical being, which was an odd feeling to get used to, considering even as President of the Twelve Colonies and the mythical Dying Leader, she hadn’t been treated with such...fragility. Quite the opposite, in fact.

While the children each took their seats, Laura went to the front of the room. “Good morning, class.”

They responded with such enthusiasm. It was still refreshing, even after all that time, and it made her wonder why she had ever gotten into politics in the first place - although she didn’t really question that decision as it had ultimately led her to this place, with the love of her life.

“Today we’re going to talk about Thanksgiving. How do you celebrate it with your families?”

The answers invariably involved a turkey, mashed potatoes, and various other side dishes, a family dinner, and a church service led by Reverend Cramed. Some families included a tradition of taking turns telling their loved ones what they were most grateful for. That seemed like something she especially wanted for her family’s rendition of the holiday, and it gave her an idea for her classroom. The children, from what she understood, had much to be grateful for, and they should take the time to acknowledge that in her classroom.

She clapped her hands together. “Very good, children. Please take out your slates and we’ll work out our multiplication problems.”

//////////////////////////////////////////

“So, what’d ya learn?” Bill asked.

She swallowed her bite of chicken. “It’s a good holiday. They gather around as a family, eat turkey and potatoes, pumpkin pie, other sides. And it’s really all about being together and grateful for everything. Some families have a tradition of sharing out loud what they’re most thankful for.”

He nodded. “That sounds good.” He reached across the table to rub her hand. “We should have that here. Invite our family.”

She smiled. “Yeah. Get everyone at the table.” She giggled. “Get Ellen and Kara to cook together.”

“May the gods bless us all.”

“You’ll be okay, honey. You, Saul, Lee, and Karl can sit and talk. Leave the kitchen to me.”

He grinned. “Then I can’t wait.”

“I’ll bring it up at the quilting group.” She sipped her water. “What’s going on with Starbuck and Apollo?”

He sighed. “Apollo arrived at the moon, but he can’t find Starbuck.” He shook his head. “I’m trying to decide how he’d react.”

“Hmm. Maybe worry, followed by frustration, and then some tears after he thinks she’s lost.”

He nodded. “He’d be the first American male character to cry, I think.”

“Good.”

He came around to her side of the table and rubbed her shoulders. She moaned as he eased out all the day’s tension. He continued talking out the plot line. “And then Starbuck appears out of nowhere, and they go home.”

She turned to face him and simpered. “Sounds perfect, Bill.”

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

The quilting group meeting was held at the Adama home that week. They were just beginning a new project: a blanket for Amelia to fit on her “big girl” bed. Ellen’s invention made the job much easier, especially for Laura, as Ellen loved to point out.

Kara and Amelia worked together on the design and color scheme. Amelia wanted a blue blanket with a few of her parents’ vipers. Kara laughed. “It’s a good thing I’ve gotten pretty good at making them.”

Laura grinned at her. The vipers Kara had embroidered on the blanket for Laura and Bill’s cabin were among the best parts, and it was good that their daughter would know a bit of her parents’ history, even if she didn’t learn everything. There were aspects of Colonial and fleet life that shouldn’t be forgotten. Kara nodded and got to work on them.

Laura patted Amelia’s leg, inciting a delighted squeal from her granddaughter. Then she got to work on her corner of the blanket. The three generations of Adama women were sitting on the cream French settee she and Bill had found during their book tour.

Sharon and Ellen sat across from them on the pair of chairs. Hera played with her favorite doll on the area rug.

Since everyone was working so diligently, it was a good time to bring up the upcoming holiday. Laura cleared her throat. Ellen groaned. “Oh, no, Laura. What is it? You only do that when you have...news.”

Laura shot Ellen her best Presidential Glare before replacing it with a calming smile. “Believe me, Ellen, you’ll like what I have to say.” She glanced around to ensure she had an active audience. “I’ve learned about a new holiday this week.”

“I like the sound of that,” Kara said. “Halloween was frakkin’ awesome. And I like the idea of Christmas.” She smiled down at Amelia. “I think this one will like it even more.”

Laura nodded. “This holiday is between Halloween and Christmas. It’s called Thanksgiving, and it’s all about spending time with family and loved ones and giving--”

“Thanks, right?” Ellen said.

Laura hmmed in the affirmative. “There’s a turkey dinner involved. But that’s not the real focus. It’s about being grateful for what we have.” The tears that often accompanied her memories were beginning to form. “I think it’ll be very appropriate for our family.”

“So say we all,” Sharon said. “We have much to be grateful for. All of us.”

“Well said,” Ellen said.

With everyone nodding and murmuring agreement, the floor was open for Laura to explain what she’d learned about the holiday.

They were just beginning to make plans and assign tasks when there was a knock on the door. Laura smiled. “That’ll be Alma and Sofia, I bet.”

Ellen snorted. “Yeah, our boys wouldn’t bother knocking.”

Kara laughed.

Laura rested her corner of the fabric on the French coffee table and went to the door. Alma and Sofia stood on the front porch in matching dresses. “Good evening, ladies,” Laura said. “You both look lovely tonight, as always.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Adama,” Sofia said.

Laura stepped back to give her guests room to enter. “Come on in. We’re just really getting started.”

Alma stepped up the front step. “And what are we working on tonight?”

Laura smiled. “A new blanket for Amelia. She outgrew her crib, so the old and young Mr. Adamas built her a bed.”

“How lovely. She’s growing up so quickly.”

“Yes she is.” Laura smiled down at Sofia. “Why don’t you go ahead and play with Hera? She has her favorite doll with her tonight.”

Sofia smiled shyly. The girl was typically more comfortable with her mother, Laura, and Bill - she was still warming up to Al - than she was with other children. Laura had trouble getting Sofia to open up during class, which was a shame because the other children could learn so much from her. It had warmed Alma, Laura, and Sharon to see Sofia take to Hera - and Amelia - so quickly. The friendship was positive for all three girls.

Sofia sped into the living room to see her friend, little sign that she heard her mother’s gentle scolding not to run indoors. Laura smiled and shook her head before turning back to Alma. “Truth be told, I’m glad to see her so excited about something.”

Alma nodded. “Me too. But...your floors and furniture shouldn’t be victims of her excitement.”

“Sofia is the least of my worries, believe me.”

“You do seem like a woman who’s little concerned with her material possessions.”

“I’m really not, no.” Laura gave a small smile. “I think you can understand what it is to leave everything you’ve ever owned behind, never to see it again. Neither of us had much choice in the matter, and we’ve had to...make do.”

“And in that making do, you’ve learned to let go. Enjoy other things instead. Correct?”

“Exactly.” Laura gestured to the living room. “Let’s go join them.”

Alma followed Laura into the living room and took a seat in the vacant chair. “Where shall I begin, ladies?”

Ellen suggested Alma begin on one of the corners since Kara was busy with the vipers. Alma picked up a needle and some fabric and got started. Laura returned to her seat, smiling at Sofia and Hera sitting on the octagonal oriental rug creating a story for the doll. Then she looked back up at Alma. “Mrs. Swearengen, we were just discussing Thanksgiving. Do you and Mr. Swearengen have plans? Mr. Adama and I would love to share our holiday with you both.”

Alma smiled. “I’m sure Mr. Swearengen would be delighted to celebrate it with you, and so would I.”

Al Swearengen and “delighted” probably shouldn’t be in the same sentence, but the point was taken. Laura smiled. “Wonderful.”

Laura picked up her fabric and the hand-held sewing machine and returned to work. The plans were falling into place nicely.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Upon further research, Laura recruited Ellen to prepare most of the sides in her oven. Ellen, Saul, Bill, and Lee would then transport the items to the Adama house. Laura was resistant to give one person so much responsibility, but the days of mistrusting Ellen, or wondering if she were competent, were long since past. And Ellen was more than up to the task, as she had become something of a domestic goddess since they had settled in Falcon’s Rest.

Laura and Kara would dress and cook the turkey in Laura’s dutch oven. They would also entertain Amelia, a task Laura was very much looking forward to. Spending quality time with her surrogate daughter would be lovely too. They’d become close since Laura and Bill’s return to the fleet. Kara had been among the first to embrace settlement.

After Laura and Bill presented the information from their stay in Deadwood to Lee, Saul, Kara, and Gaeta, Kara had stayed behind, even after Bill dismissed the others. It had only taken one look for Laura to know the pilot was going to give them an earful.

_Kara walked toward the sofa, fists at her sides. ”Why is this even a question?!” She rolled her eyes. “It’ll keep you alive,” she said, pointing at Laura. “It’ll give everyone a home.” She looked from Bill to Laura. “That’s what you want. What you’ve promised us from the beginning.” She peered into Laura’s eyes. “It’s what you sent me back to Caprica for.”_

_Laura smiled weakly. “You make some good points, Kara. But there are things to consider.”_

_“And who will be around to consider them if you’re dead?!” She snorted. “The Old Man won’t be considering much of anything.” She glanced at Bill, who made no protest._

_He did, however, speak up enough to say he and Laura would discuss it further. Alone._

_Kara left Bill’s quarters in a huff, and Laura glanced at him when the hatch slammed closed. “That went well.”_

_She coughed and Bill moved closer to her. He held her hand through her coughing spell._

_When it had passed, Bill said, “She’s right, though, Laura. This is everything we wanted for the fleet. For us.”_

_“And if the healing doesn’t work like before?”_

_He frowned. “It’s no different from what’ll happen up here. Only, in that case, the rest of the fleet will be in turmoil.”_

_“And you? What will you do?”_

_He squeezed her hand. “You know I’ll defend them and lead them until my dying breath, but I can’t live without you, so that won’t matter.”_

_“Okay.”_

_“Okay?”_

_“I’ll present it to the quorum, and considering how quickly they all jumped on the New Caprica bandwagon, I’m pretty sure they’ll agree with this.”_

_“Zarek could be trouble.”_

_“Hmm. Usually is. They’ll listen to me or they’ll listen to him. I find my illness makes a pretty compelling argument.” She sighed. “What’s Zarek have against that?”_

_“You’ll win, you always do.”_

_She hmmed and leaned back against him. “Hold me, Bill.”_

After that, Kara had visited Laura in sickbay frequently, particularly when Bill couldn’t be there. During one visit, Kara had noticed Laura’s book lying on the bed.

_“You want...” She picked the book up. “I could read this to you.”_

_Laura smiled with her eyes to counteract the uncooperative muscles in her mouth. “I’d like that. Thanks.”_

_Kara opened the book. “I prefer poetry, myself, but--”_

_“I had no idea! Who are your favorites?”_

They had started reciting favorite lines, and laughing together as they had frakked them up. They had been giggling messes by the time Bill had gotten there. It had been one of Laura’s _good_ days. One of the best she’d had since her return to the fleet and one of the best she would have until after they’d founded Falcon’s Rest.

“Laura?” Bill asked.

She turned to him. They were sitting in the chairs he’d carved. It had been one of the many ways he’d passed the time during her recovery. She smiled shyly, caught deep in thought. “I was thinking of the holiday. I find I’m looking forward to it more than any holiday I can remember.”

“Even more than Christmas?”

She shrugged. “Christmas isn’t much different from our Saturnalia, and as I don’t believe in their God, I’m not sure what the point is.”

He nodded. “I suppose we’ll have to--”

She interrupted. “Yes we will, to fit in, but I won’t enjoy it as much.”

“Think of it as a chance to spoil our grandchild and godschildren.”

She grinned. “Now that I can do. Gladly.”

“It’s getting closer.”

She nodded. “Yes. You and Saul and maybe Lee, if you can drag him away from the office--” Bill snorted. She continued, “--should go turkey hunting. Then we’ll have everything ready.”

“Turkey hunting.” He chuckled. “Shouldn’t be too hard. And Saul’s a pretty good shot for having one eye.”

She giggled. “Maybe it’s his cylon nature.” She reached for his hand, patting it. “I’m happy for him. For all of us.”

He grasped her hand. “We’ve earned it.”

They sat like that in a comforting silence, reflecting on the individual but connected history they were celebrating, and the new traditions and culture they were embracing. Even Christmas with its Santa Claus myth.

“Laura?”

“Hmm?”

“Kara and Lee say they’re going to teach Amelia about Santa.”

She nodded. “Of course. She’ll need to fit in. All our children will.”

Christmas might seem silly to her, but by the same token, Colonial beliefs would likely frighten or seem silly to the Americans. Her people must adapt to survive, but that didn’t mean they had to lose their history in the process. They could create a new history, new traditions. “Who’s gonna wear the Santa suit?”

“What?”

She grinned. “The children need to see Santa.”

“Oh, right.” He stroked his chin for a minute. “I suppose I could. Or Saul.” He chuckled. “They’ll know if it’s me, though.”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re ‘Santa’s helper.’ And besides, they’ll believe because they want to.”

“That sounds familiar.”

She snorted. “Then you should be fine.”

“Maybe your quilting group can make the suit.” She nodded at that. Then he said, “All right, I think we’ve done enough assimilating for one night. Let’s go to bed.”

“Yes, sir. Right away, sir. Anything you say, sir.”

////////////////////////////////////////////////

Al sat in the living room on one of the chairs Adama had built. It seemed the man was multitalented; it was a good chair. Sturdy and beautiful. It suited the home.

The Adama men sat on the settee, and Mr. Tigh sat on the other chair. Mr. Agathon sat in one of the extra chairs from the kitchen. He didn’t seem to mind, so long as he had a fucking chair, and even if he had to stand, he probably would have been fucking okay with that. Kind of like Adams. None of them were much for small talk, and had dispensed with the fucking niceties a while ago.

There had been some fuckin’ commotion earlier. The circumstances for it weren’t quite clear, but it involved the excitable Mrs. Tigh shrieking. Mrs. Adama appeared to have the situation well in hand, though, whatever it was.

Alma and Sofia were in the kitchen with the other ladies, helping get everything underway. Whatever else he thought about the Adamas and their...family, it was clear they were new to Thanksgiving. But they covered for it well enough. Probably due to the fucking resourceful Mrs. Adama. That woman had a way of faking knowing everything - she never let on that something was new to her.

Occasionally, one of them would enter the dining room from the kitchen, placing some dish or other on the table. He hoped that meant the feast would soon be underway. He was fuckin’ hungry.

Mrs. Adama came out of the kitchen in a red dress that brought out her hair and eyes. She smiled at them. “Dinner is ready.”

Al caught Adama’s look of pure masculine pride as he beamed at that fucking wife of his. Like the sun fucking rose and set around her.

The adults gathered at the table, Mrs. Adama on one end and Mr. Adama on the other. The Tighs sat next to Alma, who was next to Mrs. Agathon. Al was between Deputy Adama and Adama, with Mr. Agathon and Leland Adama Esquire on the other side of the Deputy. The three girls were eating in the kitchen, and he heard giggles from that direction. That was good, Sofia having a chance to bond with folks her own age.

Mrs. Adama gave Mr. Adama one of those fucking looks that contained an entire fucking conversation, and then Adama started talking. “Thank all of you for coming, for cooking or for hunting, and for everything else you’ve done for us. This home is truly blessed by your presence. To add to that, I want us to acknowledge the things we’re most grateful for.”

Adama began the proceedings: “I’m grateful to my family and friends, new and old.” He glanced around the table. He continued, “My beautiful and healthy wife for being the love of my life.” He gazed on her like she was the source of his next breath. “And my new career. Who would have thought I’d end up doing this?”

Tigh guffawed. “You always had your nose in a book, Old Man! Maybe it shouldn’t be such a surprise to you.”

Deputy Adama and Mrs. Tigh laughed at that, and Adama chuckled, conceding Tigh’s point.

The gift praising continued around the table, and it was fucking predictable: They were all grateful for each other, for their health, livelihood, relative prosperity. Mrs. Adama teared up as she spoke of love and hope, loss and pain, and how she and her people had overcome it. He couldn’t help thinking of a certain bloodspot on his fucking floor.

After Deputy Adama finished her snarky speech of being grateful to the Old Man for keeping her out of the brig and her husband for putting up with her - the brash woman had everyone roaring with laughter - it was Al’s turn.

“I’m thankful to all of you. Deadwood...it’s a better place with Falcon’s Rest. And you all support my interests. Although I would be more thankful if Deputy Adama would return to my faro table--” She snorted at that. He continued. “Mrs. Swearengen and Sofia...they’re my family, and I’m glad for that.”

They all looked up at Al like he was the brightest fucking star in the sky. Thank God for Adama having the sense to clear his throat before getting up to carve the turkey.

The turkey was...well, it was overdone, but it didn’t fucking matter. Jewel had given him worse to eat - and had fucking expected him to eat it without complaint.

Mrs. Adama and Deputy Adama handled the not-so-subtle ribbing from Mrs. Tigh with varying degrees of grace. Mrs. Adama simply smiled in that ‘fuck you’ way of hers. He had never seen anyone use that expression with such mastery before. The Deputy simply laughed it off, looked sideways at her husband and said, “Frak off, Ellen. It’s no secret my talents lie in other areas.”

Perhaps her stick-in-the-mud husband had the same dispositions as Mrs. Adama and Alma regarding the use of ‘fuck,’ as she seldom said anything other than ‘frak.’ It was becoming catching too; Al had taken to using it in Alma’s hearing. Although she knew the word’s true meaning, Alma typically laughed at his use of it - and even said it herself occasionally.

The cranberry sauce appeared to have been the victim of the earlier fuck-up, but there was still plenty of food. Mrs. Tigh said something to her husband, and he made that confused, pre-drunk look of his, mostly with his remaining eye. Then he said, “Oh yeah, let’s get the wine.”

The Tighs and Deputy Adama bolted from the table. Mrs. Adama couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes, but then she gazed at her husband and said, “This seems familiar.”

Mr. Adama nodded. “Yeah. And different too.”

Then they had another one of their fucking eye conversations. Al caught Alma’s gaze. Her eyes were conversing as well, so he joined in with his.

The Tighs and the Deputy Adama returned with enough wine to fell all his patrons at the fucking Gem.

The quantity of laughter increased fucking exponentially after the Tighs and Deputy Adama got started. Mrs. Adama sipped at her glass, and Alma followed suit. The old and young Mr. Adamas drank, with the young Adama nearly keeping up with his wife. The old Adama glanced at his own wife, who shrugged, and then he drained his glass, but he didn’t pour another one. Al tipped up his glass. While he could hold his fucking drink, he didn’t want to miss an opportunity to observe them all in a more unguarded state. Knowledge was power, after all.

The Tighs and Deputy Adama were laughing about fuck knows what. Their old times from wherever the fuck they’d come from most likely. It was interesting but not as interesting as the gazes between the elder Adamas.

When the Tighs were sufficiently loaded, Mr. Adama rose from the table. “Why don’t we move on to desert?”

Mrs. Adama nodded her approval. They were fucking good at co-hosting, but it seemed Mr. Adama was more at ease with it, even though Mrs. Adama had a more pleasant demeanor on the surface. Beneath that surface, though, lay a hard fucking edge that made even the likes of Mr. Adama take notice. She said, “I’ll get the pie from the spring house.” She tilted her head slightly. “Will you start the percolator?” She oh, so politely asked her husband. As if there were a fucking chance he’d say no.

The Tighs continued their fucking giggling. Who would have thought Mr. Tigh had it in him to giggle? This wasn’t the same fucking drunk who had started that ruckus in the Number 10. This was a man so fucking in love with his wife that he fucking giggled. Perhaps Mrs. Tigh was part of the reason for his drunken raid too. That seemed to fit in some fucked up way. Like how fucking Bullock used to act before Mrs. Bullock calmed him.

Coffee and pie was a much more subdued affair. It was clear Mrs. Adama was growing tired. Playing hostess was hard work. That was why Al stayed in his upstairs office as much as possible. Dan, Johnny, and Adams could handle most of the patrons. Mrs. Adama didn’t have that luxury, although she had quite an effective watchdog in her husband.

The Tighs finished their dessert and decided to take their fucking party elsewhere. Leland Adama nodded as they left. “Yeah, we should get going too. I have to be in the office early tomorrow, and Amelia should get to bed.” He glanced around the table. “This was really nice.”

He exchanged glances with his wife, and she said, “Right, yeah, I’ll get Amelia.”

The family exchanged parting words. Leland offered Al a polite handshake and a wave to Alma. Deputy Adama nodded her goodbyes as she was listening to Amelia telling a story all her own.

The Agathons - who had been very quiet most of the night - took their leave too. Al stood up. “Well, this was a fine Thanksgiving feast, Mrs. Adama, Mr. Adama.”

Alma took his cue and went into the living room where Hera and Sofia were playing. He heard her chatting to Mrs. Agathon. It was remarkable how fucking well she had adapted to fit into this fucking crazy family. Maybe there was more that could be done for Mr. Wu and his chinamen. It would be a lot fucking easier to conduct business if they didn’t have to use pictures to communicate.

The women and children returned to the dining room and exchanged final goodbyes with the Adamas, who walked everyone toward the front of the house.

At the front door, Al shook Mr. Adama’s hand. “Thanks for inviting us.” He glanced around the foyer once more. “You two have made a fine home.” He glanced at Mrs. Adama. “It’s always good to see you so well, Mrs. Adama. If this cocksucker ever gives you trouble, you know where to find me.”

Adama grunted and the Mrs. snorted. “Thanks, again, for the offer, Mr. Swearengen, but I think I have him under control.”

She did indeed at that. The man was fucking caught in her orbit - just like the characters in those fictions they wrote together.

Al gave a slight nod, and then he stepped out into the night air. His wife took his hand, and Sofia shyly put her hand in Al’s other one. Instead of making a big fucking deal out of it, he closed his hand around hers, and the three of them headed home.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////

They were still standing at the door. Bill’s arm was around Laura’s back.

“I’m sorry I ruined the turkey. And after you boys worked so hard getting a good one.”

He kissed her forehead. “Did you know, I prefer it like that?”

She hmmed part in pleasure and part in surprise.

He kissed her again. “It was perfect. Can’t wait till next year.”

She wrapped her arms around him. “It was, wasn’t it?” She sighed, her body catching up with the long day. “Let’s get busy.”

They went into the kitchen. Perishable items went into the spring house. Things they planned on eating over the next few days were placed in the ice box. They stacked the dishes after scraping them. They would wash and dry them the next day.

She clapped her hands clean. Then she pulled him in for a hug. “You know my favorite part of Thanksgiving?”

He shook his head. “What?”

“I have off tomorrow.”

He grinned. “I can think of ways to fill our day.”

She giggled. “Me too. What do you say we get started on some of them?”

He raised a brow. “Aren’t you tired?”

“You’ll just have to do something about my sore muscles, won’t you?”

He stood stiffer in her arms. “Yes, ma’am.”

Then he surprised her by lifting her into his arms and carrying her to their bedroom. She giggled the whole way. “What brought this on?” She asked when he placed her on the bed.

“You. Always you.”

Then he kissed her and she didn’t care to talk anymore.


End file.
